Blushing Bride
by LadyMy7
Summary: In which Gendry, unknowingly, becomes a blushing bride.


Disclaimer: _I do not own anything._

A/N: _Who else was also heartbroken along with Gendry after S08E04? Its okay; my ship is still sailing strong! I wrote this in an hour, during my break at work, so please excuse all grammer mistakes. _

Summary: _In which Gendry, unknowingly, becomes a blushing bride._

* * *

"So you will not marry?"

Although it was a question, it came out more as a statement, and Arya couldn't help but to wince inwardly at the accusatory tone in her sister's voice. Ignoring her presence, Arya reached for another arrow from the wooden tub next to her before setting up and taking aim.

Sansa sighed deeply, taking steps forward so that she stood behind her sister. "Listen. I know you do not like weddings and dresses and all of those things –"

"And yet, here you are," Arya interrupted, her voice low and steady as her launched another arrow into the sky. It hit the bullseye like always, and she lowered her bow to turn towards her red-haired woman. "I will not marry. I don't want it, he doesn't want it and that is final. You know that already."

Sansa frowned, her pretty face scrunching up slightly at the younger Stark's harsh tone.

"How do you know that he doesn't want it?"

A quirked eyebrow, "I know."

Shaking her head, Sansa allowed a small smile to grace her lips before walking over to a nearby rock and seating herself down upon the cold surface. Her gaze was set on the younger wolf as she patting the spot beside her, a wordless command. Her smiled widen when Arya begrudgingly placed her bow down and silently walked over, taking the spot next to her.

There was a comfortable silence between the two sisters, as the cool air of the North surrounded them in familiarity.

"It's funny," Sansa's soft voice broke through the still air. "Women are so busy, taking on the role of the blushing bride, that they forget the feelings of the men."

Arya scoffed softly. "Men do not care for weddings or ceremonies and such. If you believe that Gendry does, then you are mistaken."

"He loves you."

"And we don't need a wedding to prove that."

Sansa's eyes shifted to the sky, taking in a gentle breath of the cool air before her eyes were cast downward.

"Did you know, that mom didn't want to marry dad? When she had first came down to the North from the Riverlands?"

She voice was soft, so soft that Arya wasn't sure if it was the wind she might had heard. But there was an underlying tone of sadden in Sansa's voice and she knew she had heard her sister spoken.

They haven't talked about their parents in a long time. And suddenly millions of little pricks seemed to be attacking her heart, constricting her chest. Arya frowned, Sansa smiled wistfully.

"Mom had came to the North, for family and duty and honor, to marry a man she had never met before. Mom was not a blushing bride, she was doing what she believed she had to do. But she told me … that perhaps with time, she would learn to love her new husband. The future was so unclear back then. She was scared, and nervous. She didn't want to do it."

Sansa voice was even and stead, and Arya frowned hardened, trying to imagine her Lady Mother – who was always proper and noble – resenting the duties set forth for her. Granted, her parent's marriage and life had been decent in the end, but hearing about her mother's intimate feelings and thoughts still made her uncomfortable.

"She told me she wanted to back out. Even as she approached the Godswoods, dressed in her white wedding gown, all she wanted to do was turn around, run away and never look back." Sansa's eyes were still downcast, as if trying to remember the sound of her mother's voice. It's been so long since she had heard it.

Arya's eyes followed hers downward, hands twisting together in front of her. "Why didn't she?"

Sansa turned to her sister and gave her a gentle smile. Feeling her gaze on her, Arya turned her eyes over and met eyes with her sister.

"As she reluctantly stepped into the Godswood, right before she was going to stop and turn around, she saw him," Sansa whispered, tone so gentle it could shatter ice. "She saw dad, standing here. Although he stood there, prim and proper and strong, she said his eyes shined with so much love and happiness and excitement, that she couldn't look away." Sansa reached over and covered a gloved hand over Arya's smaller ones. "He couldn't wait to show the world who she belongs to. And who he now belongs to. And she wanted to loved him, and wanted to give him that bit of happiness. She did it for him."

A long, pregnant silence feel upon the two sisters before Sansa got up, dusting loose snow off her dress. She nodded to Arya her leave before walking off back towards the direction of the castle.

"My way."

Sansa turned at Arya's voice, immediately meeting her eyes, green irises sparkling. She nodded.

"Your way."

* * *

"Lord Baratheon."

Gendry looked up from here he worked within the forge at the call of his name. Seeing who it was, he lowered his hammer down before giving his guest a slight bow.

"Lady Stark. What brings you here?"

What brings her here indeed, for Sansa has never visited him within the chaos of the forge. After the last war, it was agreed that Gendry would remain a short guest in Winterfell while learning the basics of how to be a lord from Winterfell's maesters. In return, he would replenish the Winterfell's army weaponry. But never once did their paths really crossed.

"I need you to come with me."

His eyes widen a bit at her biting tone, before looking down at his dirtied statue. He was covered in ash and soot and sweat, all from his long day in the forge, but this was he Lady of Winterfell and he knew he cannot defy her.

"Just allow me one moment to get cleaned up—"

"Now."

She was using her ruling voice, and at that Gendry winced. His mind began to race with his heart, wondering what in seven hells did he do wrong to irk off the Stark Lady. He gave her an affirming nod before striding over to a side table to reach for a long-sleeved wool shirt to cover his bare arms. He strode over to Sansa before she outstretched her arms, a pile of clothe lying in her palms.

"It will be cold tonight," she said, tone even. "Arya had this made for you a while ago as a gift for your new lordship, but she was too stubborn to give it to you herself. Here."

He took the parcel from her arms, and quickly realized that it was a cloak; a cloak with the Baratheon sigil sewed into the back in fine black thread. Before he could have time to admire the piece, Sansa turned and headed out of the forge.

"Come."

Was he a dog now? Frowning, Gendry quickly done on the cloak and walked out, instantly grateful for the extra material on her back, for the sun has gone down and the chilling winds were out.

He quickly recognized where they were heading to almost immediately. What he didn't expect was to approach the people who were already there.

In front of the gates leading into the Godswood stood Jon, solemn and tall, dressed in his fine furs. Off to the side of him stood their comrades; Ser Brienne and Ser Podrick, along with Bran and the Hound a further distance away. They were all looking at him, unsmiling and unwavering.

Gendry stopped in his tracks, confusion and worried etched all over his face and eyes, but Sansa continued to walk, stopping a few paces in front of him.

Jon's eyes were grave and serious. So much that a sudden thought of panic arose in the blacksmith.

'_Seven hells, are they going to kill me?' _

Jon's deep voice broke through his thoughts, his eyes never leaving Gendry's blue ones.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

Now he was official jumbled. _'I was kidnapped! I was brought here against my will!'_ He looked around, only to be met with solemn faces from everyone, although Podrick has a slight hint of humor in his eyes.

He panicked. He was going to die, right here and now and there was nothing he could do about it. His breathing hitched as he tried to ground himself before addressing his King.

"Y-your Grace, I —"

"Gendry," Sansa femininity voice reached his ears and his head whipped over to her in shock. She was speaking to Jon. "Of the House Baratheon. He comes here," slowly she turns her face to met Gendry's shocked one, "to be wed." Smiling, she turned back to Jon. "A man, low-born but noble. He comes here to beg the blessings of the Old Gods."

Finally, the impromptu audience standing at the side broke out in small grins and smiles. Gendry's breath was so caught in his throat, he couldn't breathe.

_WHAT?!_

Sansa continued. "Who comes to claim him?"

Suddenly, a shadow steps forward from underneath the Godwood tree, so silently that all he did was blink and there she was, standing next to Jon. She was dressed in her usually garb, a grey cloak around her neck and a small smirk on her lips.

In that moment, he has never seen someone more beautiful than her. So much so, he started to shake.

"Arya," she breathes, looking directly at him haughtily, "of House Stark." There was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes and her eyes him knowingly. "Who comes to give him?"

Sansa let out a short chuckle. "Sansa of the House Stark. The Lady of Winterfell and," she turned to him gently, "this lord's soon-to-be sister by law."

Jon broke Gendry out of his trace, holding his gaze with his and then motioning pointedly towards Arya. Getting the subtle hint (hey, he was from the South and wasn't aware of Northern traditions!) Gendry shakily stepped forward, eyeing his love completely.

Arya's hand reached out to reach, and he instantaneously grabbed it, finally a huge smile spreading across his handsome face at the realization of what was going on hit in like a snow blizzard.

_He was getting married! _

_Holy mother of cows, he was getting married!_

"Lord Gendry, do you take this woman?" he heard Jon said, almost humorously at everyone witnessed the unconventional ceremony in front of his.

His eyes never left her grey ones as he forced his brain to remember how to speak. "I…I take this woman."

His voice, although nervous and shaking, was filled with so much absolute and love, and Arya couldn't help but to smirk at her stupid bull.

She motioned him over to the weirwood tree, the same tree her parents were married under, and she could feel the firm grasp of his large hands in her smaller ones. She could feel his hands shake and tightened her grip silently and reassuringly.

They both kneel down before the tree, heads bowed and in prayer to allow the Gods to witness their union.

Snow started to fall gently around them, and suddenly the rest of the world disappeared as they stood up and he was face to face with his little wolf. Suddenly, excitement overwhelmed his body, and he raised their joined hands up to his lips and planted a long kiss on the black of her hand, eyes never off her.

She returned his gaze evenly, before releasing his hold of her, turning around and exposing her cloak to him.

Gendry has only heard about this in children tales; how the royal King would cloak his lady love to bring her under his protection, but even once seen it done before. Now, what he once thought was a childish ritual now held heavily in his mind.

Steadily, he reached over and undid her cloak, quickly handing it over to the closest person, who was Jon, not caring if that was even the proper procedures to follow. Immediately, he undid the hold of his own cloak as she turned to face him around, and stepped forward to her, swinging the long, dark fabric around her small body and resting it on her shoulders.

His hands rest momentarily on her shoulders before softly traveling up and cupping her face in his palm. The small smirk her face held throughout the entire ceremony finally broke into a small smile and he abruptly pulled her into him and crashed his lips onto hers.

The sound of clapping rang distantly in his head as he pulled everything he had into that kiss, all of his love and admiration and loyalty to this one small and deadly woman who had stolen his heart. And his heart swelled up when he felt her responding, deepening their kiss and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I, Jon Snow, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm...and brother to all of you crazy lot, hereby pronounce you husband and wife," Jon recited seriously, despite the last garb he had added into the speech. The audience around him snickered.

When they finally pulled away, he rests his forehead against hers and gazed into her eyes lovingly.

"I love you."

She smirked and whispered, "Only for you, I would do this for."

He was grinning. He was happy. He was beautiful.

The happiness on his face was one that she, right then and there, committed and burned into her memory, for it made this whole nonsense ordeal worth it.

Sansa was right.

Not just the females can be blushing brides.

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Review! :)


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